A very honest and often comical view into the ins and outs (pun intended) of living and loving as a fiercely independent woman. If you spend any time around me, chances are you'll end up in the stories, so be warned. I change the names to protect the guilty, but I write with a candor that alarms some and charms others.

12 February 2008

"This is your life"...

It was pointed out to me recently that I was blogging (projeving?) so enthusiastically about Zig Zag, and then suddenly it was word-play, childhood memories and photos. He actually pointed it out, rather amusedly.Those who know me best, know my tell-all projev is usually anything but. True processing and growth are done internally, or sometimes by turning to a few trusted friends. Only they can read between the lines, separate the persona from the real person.When I first started this chronicle, it was simply an exercise in writing. It was less about the telling and more about the writing---trying to develop a style, a voice. I simply drew from my experiences out of convenience, or perhaps laziness. The blog took on a life of its own after a while, at times making me feel as though it was living my life and not the other way around.Now, with the help of my new friend, I have found it to be rather startling and revelatory.Yes, your little CoatCheck Girl is growing up.I see a movie-of-the-week, after-school special here...

The greatest gift one can receive from a friend or a lover is that of self-knowledge. There are people who are great mirrors or catalysts for personal growth, and Zig Zag has shown himself to be such a person in a very short period of time. I could not ask for a better, more unassuming teacher.

Though I myself practice energy work, or perhaps because of that fact, I am rarely a good recipient. I'm generally too aware of tracking what's happening here...or what I'm feeling there...I'm also unaccustomed to having lovers (or potential lovers) who understand, let alone practice energy work themselves. It's usually something that guys accept, with some amusement, as one of my charming quirks.A few weeks ago, however, something happened which I have been struggling to understand and reconcile.I was in a frenzy and had been for a couple of days. When I am feeling something so strongly, it comes off me in waves. I was feeling pure (though there was nothing pure about the thoughts Iwas having) unadulterated lust. Friends who saw me during that time suddenly found themselves in a similar frenzy and calling their respective lovers.Zig Zag and I were in mid-makeout session, which only added to that bottled up energy. As he caressed my face, he touched a spot on my forehead---my third eye point.Everything shifted.All of that frenetic energy was transmuted, diffused through my entire body and expanded beyond it. It felt like a lucid dream state. I was aware of him still kissing me, but through a haze. I couldn't move, but felt completely safe and peaceful.The experience itself was pretty remarkable, but it has been the after-effects which have prompted all of the self-reflection.The most immediately noticeable effect was that my energy felt much more balanced afterward. The desire is still there, but it is not so frantic and demanding.I also spent a day or two curled up in a little ball, crying, struggling to process emotions I had not given due attention in some time.

My father would often tell me that he never worried much about me where relationships were concerned. He would say he admired my ability to turn my emotions off and on, seemingly at will.It helps me in my energy work. It allows me to be compassionate without getting too personally involved, to be an objective sounding board for others.In my personal life, however, I don't know that it has served me so well. For as long as I can remember I have been able to disconnect the head from the heart...and the heart from...the loins. It's the re-connect that takes some doing.When I began my blog I had come out of a period of growth---figuratively and literally speaking. That disconnect had physically manifested as a rather large ovarian cyst. I had spent 3 1/2 years digging, peeling away layers of depression and walls I had built after what I officially dubbed "The Year From Hell".My first entry was hopeful, if a bit timorous. I had met somebody who wore his heart on his sleeve. For all that he was gentle and vulnerable, he taught me a lot about courage and the strength to be found in allowing oneself to be vulnerable. I learned that opening up to somebody wouldn't actually kill me.The next logical step was to actually open up to somebody, and do so without reservation. Of course, it helped that I knew that one came with an expiration date.Baby steps, right?Still, I chose...unwisely (my Freckled Friend).I offered the most guarded parts of my heart to somebody unworthy of them, and what's worse, somebody who didn't want or believe he was worthy of love in the first place.Can I pick 'em or what?Had it been merely a case of unrequited affection, it would have stung---but it would have been otherwise unremarkable. The betrayal that accompanied it, however, was unforgivable (Part 1 and Part 2) and had far-reaching repercussions. It went beyond a breach of trust between lovers. Even as he invoked the word "friendship" (yeah, the dreaded "let's just be friends"), he made a mockery of it. Friends support each other during trying times---he was making a hasty exit at a time when he had pledged his much-needed support.

I knew that it had set me back. I knew that I had embarked on a bit of a rampage, keeping everyone, even some friends, at a safe emotional distance. It made for some entertaining blogs, but it was those very blogs which made me curl up for a couple of days after that unexpected bit of energy work. I went back and reviewed them.A year and a half of my life.Having written them myself, I could easily discern what was mere Infamous sassiness...and what was a very real bitterness creeping in.I remembered bemoaning a loss of innocence to my Freckled Friend, but I had quickly tried to put it out of my mind.Apparently, it didn't go far, since I saw it seeping through into my writing. This may not be news to my friends who have watched the whole process, but it was great revelation to me---one that greatly saddened me.I allowed myself those two days to acknowledge and mourn that loss of innocence. Then, in my usual fashion, I picked myself up and set out to explore a new direction, armed with this new epiphany.It was indeed a precious gift.

There's a drawback to spending more than a few days writing a specific blog entry. Sometimes, by the time it gets posted, the course of things has changed.When I clear a hurdle, physical or emotional, I just want to take off running in that new direction. Life doesn't always cooperate, though.I feel like I'm back on track, hopeful and willing to explore emotional intimacy once again, like I was before I took my rather scenic detour.Now if only I would learn, once and for all, to be more discerning in my choices...

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Who is that girl?

I have a penchant for getting myself into odd scrapes and misadventures, and a knack for storytelling. Put the two together and you get "The Misadventures of a Coat Check Girl", the blog I've maintained since late 2005.